


Hearts in Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, First Date, dirk gently drabble, freakish i know, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: short <2,000 word drabble of Amanda taking the initiative in holding Farah's hand on their first date.





	Hearts in Hands

Amanda tried everything to warm her hands up; rubbing them together, cupping them around her mouth and blowing—she even considered getting back into the still-warm car on for even one second of reprieve from the frosty gloom dominating the street. Yet, despite how tantalizing that option seemed, she didn’t want to have Farah’s first image of her from their very first date to be of her huddled in the front seat of her car with her hands under her ass.

She couldn’t yet decide if having bloodlessly cold hands was better or worse than looking like a total dork in front of her date.

So instead she continued leaning against the passenger-side door of the sedan, arms and legs crossed in the stereotypically ‘cool’ position that she’d been planning in her head the entire drive there. She regretfully recalled the image of her fingerless gloves sitting in a box at the back of the Rowdy van; she’d _known_ they were there and _still_ hadn’t had the common sense put them on. She tried to place some blame on the other Rowdies for not reminding her, but in the end the fault was no one’s but her own.

Amanda’s hand-based reverie was halted by the sound of Farah’s apartment building’s front door opening. Her heart almost vacated her body before she realized that it was simply an elderly woman carrying some bags to her car.

She had momentarily forgotten that just because Farah lived in this building didn’t mean that she was the _only_ one who lived there, and that there were in fact a two dozen more people who could possibly walk through that door.

Amanda lazily watched the woman carry her bags before snapping to her senses and rushing over to help her, gathering them into her arms and smiling as she took the woman’s arm and guided her to her car. The lady looked astonished before expressing her relief and thanking Amanda continuously the whole way from the door to the car.

Ever since she’d started rolling with the Rowdy Three, an unexpected effect was the satisfaction that came with seeing the look of the surprise on people’s faces whenever they saw someone decked entirely in leather actually commit a good deed, as if they were witnessing a miracle from the heavens rather than a relatively normal occurrence.

After seeing the old woman off Amanda turned to resume leaning coolly against the car, but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of Farah standing in front of her car and inspecting the giant ‘3’ Amanda and Vogel had emblazoned it with months earlier. Farah turned and flashed her with a smile beset by obvious nervousness.

“Oh! Hey.” Amanda said, as nonchalantly as she could manage, which was of course a lot less nonchalant as she would’ve preferred.

“Hi. I, uh came out a couple minutes ago but I saw you helping that woman and I thought I should leave you to it.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

_Cut back on the ‘Oh’s’_ Amanda scolded herself; _‘you sound buzzed, dummy’._

Farah smiled, more genuinely this time; “Don’t be sorry, that was very friendly of you. I’d consider that a good sign for the quality of the rest of the date.”

They stood in silence for a moment, and Farah obviously immediately regretting reminding them that the occasion for their gathering was, in fact, a date.

Amanda, pitifully out of practice when it came to dating etiquette, considered that Farah might be so stationary because she was waiting for her to open the door for her, and jumped forward the exercise this hypothesis.

Farah seemed pleasantly surprised, both with having the door opened for her and with the fact that the car was already pre-warmed. Amanda, in turn, was satisfied with this, and suddenly the date was put back into motion.

The next thing she knew Amanda was driving. While the ice hadn’t yet fully been broken by far, the stilted first couple minutes of their date was already starting to become a blur.

Amanda was having a hard time focusing on the road, though. If there was one thing Amanda knew about Farah, it was that she had a tendency to fidget; she saw it as a physically manifestation of Farah’s constantly-in-motion brain.

This fidgeting wasn’t quite as endearing, however, when you’re trying to ignore it while struggling remember the route to the restaurant your brother recommended, a restaurant that you’ve never actually been to before.

Farah wrung her hands as if it might help her think of a conversation topic, a strategy she was finding worryingly inadequate.

“You must be considerably strong to carry those bags for that woman like that.” She paused. “I mean that, they looked awfully heavy, but maybe they weren’t”

Amanda furrowed her brow. She hadn’t really thought about it, but she had become stronger—or at least heathier—during her time spent with the Rowdy Three. The comment seemed almost reductive, however; a Farah-fied version of the classic cliché; ‘ _oh you’re_ so strong _, why don’t you just carry me right off into the sunset’._

“Yeah, I guess so. Life on the road, y’know.” She clenched her fist as if trying to gauge a visual indication of her increased strength. She saw Farah absentmindedly mirror the gesture out of the corner of her eye.

“That’s good. In the absence of weapons, brute force in hand to hand combat can be a useful tool.”

Amanda stifled a smile. Farah had tendency to resort to unusually sterile language when nervous, although the quirk was nearly indistinguishable from her normal vocabulary if you didn’t already know her.

As the drive continued Amanda wondered if there might’ve been an alternative reason for Farah’s hand-based preoccupation. Her mind wandered, wondering how warm Farah’s fingers might feel against hers at that very moment. Amanda’s hands _had_ warmed up considerably since getting in the car, so it wouldn’t be too weird if she were to just…

“So where are you guys staying?” Farah asked, blissfully ambivalent to the turning of Amanda’s internal gears.

Amanda took a second to gather her thoughts; “Uh, we’re—uh, staying in a camp ground across town. It’s pretty nice actually.”

Farah stared at her hands. “Thanks for making time.”

Amanda scoffed. “Well of course! What else was I supposed to do, pass this up?”

Farah’s brilliant white smile shone in the edge of Amanda’s vision.

There was something building inside her, and she was positive it wasn’t vomit. It felt almost like courage. Her fingers itched.

Amanda’s hand seemed to act of its own accord, grasping Farah’s from where it sat in her lap as if it were seeking out its long-lost soulmate.

Amanda saw Farah glance at her, but she didn’t turn or even try to explain herself, simply letting out a slight smirk.

She knew that Farah saw her as the more confident one—although whether that was actually true or not was extremely debatable. She didn’t quite have the courage to try to hold hands, but once Amanda took the initiative she definitely wasn’t going to complain.

Amanda had been right—Farah’s hand was very warm, the exact right middle ground between dry and clammy. It felt like home.

Their fingers stayed intertwined for the rest of the drive, and once they left the car Amanda was left with a slight melancholy longing, and she knew exactly what for.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave any relevant comments! everything helps.


End file.
